


Gotta Have You

by AkiRah



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief appearances by the rest of the cast, F/M, Gen, Songfic, Weeb-Solas AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mostly we send text messages, every now and then we manage to meet up. I'm not really sure if that counts as together." Varric-centric modern AU around the time Bianca got married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Have You

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics are to "Gotta Have You" by the Weepies. The story is for my friend The-Vaudevillain.  
> There might be more stories coming from the Weeb-Solas AU which, as a private aside to me, probably needs a better title.

_Gray, quiet and tired and mean_

_Picking at a worried seam_

* * *

Varric always slept with his ringer all the way up in case someone needed him. Friends being in the short supply (and perpetual trouble) they seemed to be, it was never out of his way to help out if someone needed something. And even when it was out of his way, they were worth it.

Not that he tended to admit to such. Open admissions of affection had never been his strong suit, personally, he blamed his parents.

He groaned and rolled sideways, damning whichever friend it was bothering him under his breath as he was temporarily blinded by the screen’s glow.

Technically the number was unfamiliar. There was no contact information and it was a different area code. Still, the smile that curled over his face and deepened the sickly shadows the luminescence left told a different story.

* * *

_I try to make you mad at me_

_over the phone._

* * *

“Andraste’s tits, the time zone difference isn’t that profound.” He tried to sound exasperated, but it came across as affectionate almost immediately. He would have been okay with that if he’d received the expected, tinny, huff of air and the hint of a chuckle in her reply.

Instead his expression darkened. He stared up at the black ceiling and felt like he was falling away from it and from reality all together. His throat felt tight and altogether too much like someone was trying to suffocate him. “What’s his name?” He exhaled through his nose. “No, I’m not . . . Shit. Yes I’m fucking mad but there’s not a whole lot I can do about it is there?” Varric squeezed his eyes shut. “You still coming in to town? Ah, right. Yeah. That makes sense. Would it be bad form to send a fruitcake or, shit, what do you send to weddings when you’ll be shot if they find out you were talking to the bride?” He cracked a smile he didn’t feel at all. His last ditch attempt to put a tiny bandaid over the gaping hole in his chest. “They always find me. They find you too. Nah, thanks. . . thanks for telling me. I’ll talk to you when I can.”

There was an audible pause. He squeezed the phone so tightly that he worried he was going to break it. “I love you too.”

It felt like the last time he’d get to actually say it.

Not that he ever said it often.

* * *

_Red eyes and fire and signs_

_I'm taken by a nursery rhyme_

* * *

Varric hung up the phone and stared at his reflection in the screen once it went black. He had eight hours until work, five until his alarm went off. It was a school night and he would have felt guilty about waking Hawke up. She had class the next morning and her cavalier attitude towards attending wasn’t something he should have been encouraging.

Maybe he’d be able to get back to sleep if he pretended really hard that the phone had never rung. After about twenty minutes of trying (it felt more like an hour) Varric kicked the blankets off and turned on his bedside lamp.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed life into his face, wondering why his skin felt so numb. It was almost five am. A small, irresponsible and simpering voice in the back of his head mumbled that it was five o’clock somewhere and reminded him that there was a bottle of rum tucked into one of the easily reached cupboard where Rivani wouldn’t have thought to look for it.

Another voice, one that sounded uncomfortably like Bertrand’s, told Varric to grow up. It wasn’t like any part of this was a surprise.

* * *

_I want to make a ray of sunshine_

_and never leave home_

* * *

He hopped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He was up, he might as well do something. His apartment had a shitty water heater, but that was fine because he just needed the shower to wake him up. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair back into the short ponytail he always did. His reflection didn’t smile back at him, even though Varric was certain he could smile through fucking anything.

He set the coffee pot on and plugged in his laptop on the counter, opening the latest chapter of his novel and staring blankly at the first sentence. The instant messenger, eternally logged in, flashed.

 

> **HawkeItToMe@gmail.com:**  Aren’t responsible adults asleep at this hour?
> 
>  

Varric smiled despite himself and shook his head, starting to type back. 

 

> **StoryTellerTethras@gmail.com:** That would explain why you’re awake, Hawke.
> 
> **HawkeItToMe@gmail.com:** Eat my ass. I’m very responsible about lots of things.
> 
> **HawkeItToMe@gmail.com:** _is typing. . ._
> 
> **HawkeItToMe@gmail.com:** you alright?
> 
> **StoryTellerTethras@gmail.com:** Insomnia, kicked me right in the teeth some I’m making coffee and thinking about breakfast.

 

Varric had the lie typed and sent before it even occurred to him not to. He’d been lying about her for so long that it wasn’t even second nature any more. It came as immediately as breathing. He almost felt guilty about it.

 

> **StoryTellerTethras@gmail.com:** You got time before class?
> 
> **HawkeItToMe@gmail.com:** I have two hours before school even starts. Of course I have fucking time. Want me to bring the kids?
> 
> **StoryTellerTethras@gmail.com:** Nah. Leandra will have a heart attack if all three of you are missing when she wakes up. Leave a note this time.

 

Hawke would understand, if he ever told her. He was sure of that.

 

> **HawkeItToMe@gmail.com:** Sure thing dad.

* * *

_No amount of coffee, no amount of crying_

_No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine_

* * *

It was a fifteen minute drive from Hawke’s mom’s house to Varric’s apartment if Hawke could be bothered to care about speed limits. She never was and so Varric had pancakes made in ten when he heard her key slide into the lock and the front door opened.

He took a drink of his coffee and pushed the plate across the counter, stepping off the stool he was standing on and rounding the corner out of the kitchen. “Pancakes.”

“Fuckin’ sweet.” Hawke’s hair was in complete disarray and her blue eyes were tired, but she smiled at him. “And there’s coffee.”

“There’s always coffee.”

“Irrelevant. There is coffee now and now is what fucking matters.” She picked up her plate and followed him to the couch. Varric noticed her expression fixed more intently on his face for a few moments and he hoped he looked more put together than he felt.

With luck he just looked tired.

* * *

No, no, no, no, no,

nothing else will do

* * *

 

Idle fancies played through his head while he and Hawke had breakfast and she stole his shower (she had her own toothbrush in his bathroom already) before class. He washed dishes and let the presence of his best friend soothe some of the loneliness he felt.

She would like Hawke.

The thought rose unbidden while Varric dried his hands and kicked the dishwasher door closed.

Technically she already did like Hawke. They’d talked about her over the phone a few times and in e-mails she was always amused by whatever antics had been had.

He wondered what it would be like to have them both in the same place. His best friend and his . . . whatever she was. Paramour? Shit. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t register the sound of the shower turning off, or the thunder of Hawke knocking over the shampoo, conditioner and probably everything else.

He was less sure Hawke would like her. Hawke was protective and she had bad idea practically tattooed across her perfect face.

* * *

_I've gotta have you,_

_I've gotta have you._

* * *

 

“You’re zoning.” Hawke said from behind him. She rested her arms on the top of his head and looked down at his face. “You’re zoning bad, Varric.”

“Sorry. Got a few things on my mind.” He smiled. “Business, you know how it is.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Want me to ditch class.”

“Hawke. Aveline will literally skin me if you miss any more class on my account.”

“No one said we had to tell Ave--she’d know.”

He nodded.

“Fuck me running but she always knows. I get out at two thirty, I’ll bring the troops by later? If they’re free and, like, my actual mother doesn’t need anything?”

“Sounds good. I get off work at eight.”

“I’ll pick you up. We’ll do dinner.”

The door closed behind Hawke’s wave and Varric listened as her car started and peeled out of the parking lot going too fast to be legal or safe. He felt his smile, forced into place for too long, shift and fall and shatter.

He lowered back onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

_The road gets cold, there's no spring in the meadow this year_

_I'm the new chicken clucking open hearts and ears_

* * *

He was mid-sentence when the phone went off and held up a hand to apologize to Daisy as he picked it up to check and make sure there wasn’t an emergency. She grinned at him in response as his eyes dipped to the screen.

 

> **Unknown number:** TevINNter Motel. Room 8. 7 pm.

 

“Are you alright, Varric?” Daisy chirruped (he never thought he’d use that word to describe a sound made by a woman only three years younger than he was, but with Daisy it applied) as he dropped the phone back into his pocket. “You’re eyes are the size of plates! Oh! No! Was that rude? Sorry, I shouldn’t pry. Are you sure you’re alright though?”

Varric’s smile was easy and he chuckled. “I’m fine Daisy, just my agent. Still nothing on the great publisher hunt.” Lying to Daisy was easy enough that he almost felt bad about it. It helped that she always wanted to believe him. Like there was no world in which Varric would lead her astray.

And he lied to her, sure, but he worked hard to make sure he lived up to her innocent ideals. She had her problems, more than enough of them, but Daisy emanated such hope and goodwill that Varric felt weirdly compelled to protect them.

A horn honked outside.

“That’ll be Isabella. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? I’m sure the movie won’t be that bad and Hawke says that half the fun of movies with friends is heckling the screen. It seems rude, but she promised we’d be alright.”

“I’m sure Daisy. I’ve got to finish this chapter.”

“Oh. Alright then!” She left the apartment with a skipping step that should have caused flowers to bloom. When the door closed behind her, Varric looked back at his phone.

He was sure he was right about the date. There was no way it could be her.

She was getting married today.

He checked the bus route and as he boarded wondered how annoyed Hawke was going to be if (when) he got himself shot.

* * *

_Oh, such a prima donna, sorry for myself_

_But green, it is also summer_

* * *

 

It wasn’t a trap. No more so than every time they were together was a trap. Her smile was bright when she opened the hotel room door for him. She smelled like oil and leather and she tasted like bad ideas, but the moment her lips curved to smile while pressed against his it was worth it all again.

He was definitely going to get shot.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be today?” He asked. Her head was nestled on his shoulder, fingers curling through his chest hair and her eyes on the shitty tv movie they’d put on in the background.

“I didn’t want to go,” she admitted quietly. “I’ll have to later I know, but that’s later.”

Varric growled in the back of his throat and almost demanded to know why she would have to later. He stopped himself. He knew why and having to hear it again wouldn’t have helped anything. “Your fits of girlish pique are going to get me shot,” he warned instead.

She shrugged as though unconcerned. “It hasn’t yet. You worry too much.” She tightened her hand on his skin and pulled herself up to kiss him again. “I’ll protect you, you big baby.”

Varric made a displeased “hrmm” sound against her mouth even as she tugged him back against her.

* * *

 

_And I won't be warm 'til I'm lying in your arms_

* * *

 

The hardest moment was always the leaving. If either one of them had been less practical by nature they either wouldn’t have been in this mess or they would have agreed to just let someone catch them together, knowing full well that Varric would have been shot. But they were eternally practical. She pulled on her shirt while he leaned against the headboard.

“Is this the last time?” he asked, and his voice felt uncharacteristically shaky as it left his mouth.

She paused. “I hope not.”

“You’re going to be married.”

“If I cared about that I wouldn’t have come in the first place.” She turned and rested her hands on either side of his legs while she kissed him goodbye. “I figure if I have to have a wedding night, I wanted to spend it with someone I--” her tongue tripped over the word love the way it always did “--I love.”

“You have to get married to have a wedding night.”

“Technically.”

He nodded. “Technically.”

* * *

_No amount of coffee, no amount of crying_

_No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine_

* * *

“Varric? Hey! Varric! Open the fucking--” There was a frustrated huff from the other side of his bedroom door and the thump of a body smacking against it. “Come on, man. This isn’t like you.”

“I’m fine Hawke.” It was a lie, and not a very good one. He was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, in the same position he’d been in since stalking her facebook wall and seeing the pictures of her wedding.

The ceremony had been beautiful.

He’d received a very threatening letter about the whole thing.

“You’re normally a much better liar.” Hawke growled. “Please, I really don’t want to have to explain why I broke the door down to your landlord, she’s a goddamn monster.”

“You can’t break the door down, Hawke.”

“True. And it’ll be really embarrassing when I have to ask Fenris and Anders for help with that.” Something brushed the wood on Hawke’s side of the door and he heard her sigh. “Look, you don’t even need to tell me what’s wrong. I won’t ask. Just open the fucking door.”

* * *

_No, no, no, no, no_

_Nothing else will do_

* * *

“Please?”

Varric exhaled. He stood up and opened the door, almost causing Hawke to tumble into the bedroom. She caught herself on the doorframe and gave him a worried, but almost hopeful expression.

He wished he’d been able to cry. But instead he was just grey-faced and tired looking. He could see the reflection in Hawke’s worry.

“I can order a pizza. And booze,” Hawke volunteered.

“That . . .” Varric dropped his head and his shoulders. “That would be great.”

“Anything you need, Varric.” She put her hands on his shoulders and bent so they were face to face. “Always.”

There was something just wrong, or at least unfair, about the way that Hawke was so capable of being absolutely sincere with her affections. She was a sarcastic asshole literally all the time and then something like this would happen and she might as well be proclaiming her love on street corners with a megaphone.

* * *

_I've gotta have you,_

_I've gotta have you_

* * *

Hawke stayed with him that night, through shitty movies and more drink than was a good idea and she never asked him about why he’d been shut in his room for twenty-four hours and not answering his phone.

She’d responded to texts and calls from everyone and just told them she was “having a night in” which would have confused her mother if Sunshine hadn’t been there to translate.

The sun started to come up and found them curled up on the couch watching Blood Mage: The Revenge of Tevinter, a shitty sequel to a bad movie.

“Are you going to ask?” Varric asked.

“I said I wasn’t,” Hawke shrugged. “And honestly, if you try and tell me I’m going to stop you and make you think about it. If it’s something you’re that fucking dedicated to not sharing, I don’t want you sharing it just because you’re plastered.”

* * *

_I see it all through a telescope: guitar, suitcase, and a warm coat_

_Lying in the back of the blue boat, humming a tune...hmmmmmmm_

* * *

 

“It’s . . . mostly just that it’s not really my story.” Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish I could tell you. I really wish I could.”

“Eh, you tell me plenty of stories, I can live without this one.”

“The irony is thick enough to fucking drown in. I tell hundreds of stories. Most of the stories I tell aren’t mine.”

“Most of the stories you tell are mine,” Hawke challenged, “which makes them basically yours, let’s be honest.”

“Be honest, yeah right.”

“What’s she like?”

Varric looked down at his hands and the coffee table and the plaid blanket he had draped over his lap because five thirty in the morning was cold and his heater wasn’t working properly. “Brilliant,” he settled on at last as he flipped through adjectives. “She’s up for a nobel peace prize I think. Or should be anyway.”

Hawke gave an appreciative whisper. “Fucking sweet.”

“No, she’s really not. But she’s passionate and she’s brilliant and she’s got a sense of humor to rival even yours. I don’t even know if I’m actually in love with her, or if she is with me, we’re just. . . magnetic. We always have been.”

Hawke nodded and handed him a glass of water. “Shit man, anything I can do?”

“Don’t mention her to anyone. Ever.”

“I can manage that.” Hawke gave him an absolutely shit-eating grin and curled an arm around his shoulders to pull him into a hug. “For you, anyway. I guess.”

* * *

_No amount of coffee, no amount of crying_

_No amount of whiskey, no wine_

* * *

 

Two months after his breakdown to Hawke, Varric was mostly back in the swing of things. Summer was in full force and it had lead to an increase in the number of people sleeping in his apartment any given night. He tiptoed through the house, heading outside for a breath of air.

Daisy was asleep on the couch.

Broody and Blondie were on the floor, their arms curled around Hawke in different places like they’d fallen asleep during a game of tug-of-war, but Varric noted they way their legs twined around each others as well and figured they’d be alright.

Rivani was no where to be seen, probably passed out again in the bathtub.

Aveline had gone home when people started to fall asleep, and she’d taken Sunshine and Junior with her, the responsible adult they all needed so badly.

He opened the front door silently and pulled it closed behind him.

* * *

_No, no, no, no, no_

_Nothing else will do_

* * *

The early morning sky was pale grey with traces of summer blue threatening it. The sun was still sunk behind the horizon, but she was poking her fingers up, getting ready for the day. Varric leaned against the bars and exhaled, breath coiling whispy in front of him.

 

 

> **Unknown Number:** Missing you.

 

He smiled back despite himself. The first thing he’d heard from her since her wedding, the one she actually had bothered to show up for. She was texting him at fucking sun-up. He almost wanted to be annoyed because that text would have definitely woken him up.

It was undeniably sweet, though. He did some quick math in his head with timezones and smiled to realize that she would have just had her breakfast. She probably still smelled like soap from the shower. Glaring at her orange juice, her teeth freshly brushed so she couldn’t actually drink it yet. And she’d decided to text him something small and simple.

* * *

_I've gotta have you,_

_I've gotta have_

* * *

Usually he avoided texting back, too many things could go wrong, though he was never really sure exactly how. However, he pushed the rightful paranoia aside and reminded himself that they weren’t teenagers anymore (albeit only barely) and that no one was going to check her phone and demand to know who the unknown number was.

 

> **Me:** Missing you.
> 
> **Unknown Number:** I should be in Kirkwall end of the month. Lunch?
> 
> **Me:** I’d like that.

* * *

 

_No amount of coffee, no amount of crying_

_No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine_

* * *

He picked up Starbucks and lunch on the way to the hotel address he’d been texted. Hawke drove and didn’t ask any questions. She gave him a concerned smile as she dropped him off in the parking lot.

“You sure this is a good idea.” Hawke flipped her sunglasses up and raised her eyebrows at him, sipping at her mocha frappuccino with one hand on the wheel.

“I’m,” Varric looked up at the hotel in front of him. “Fairly certain it isn’t, actually.”

“Text me when you need a ride home.”

“Might be late.”

“Don’t care,” Hawke shrugged. “Fuckin’ do it.”  

* * *

_No, no, no, no, no_

_Nothing else will do_

* * *

It wasn’t a good idea. No more so than every time they were together was a good idea. Her smile was bright when she opened the hotel room door for him. She smelled like oil and leather and she tasted like bad ideas, but the moment her lips curved to smile while pressed against his it was worth it all again.

He almost dropped the paper back with their lunch and the cardboard drink tray as she kicked the door closed to kiss him again. Her fingers came up to take the drinks and she set them on top of the TV so he could curl his arms around her without worrying about causing a disaster.

The paper bag with their lunch made a crumpling sound when it hit her back, but she didn’t seem to mind and instead sighed content against his mouth.

* * *

_I've gotta have you, I've gotta have you._

* * *

 Varric chuckled as they parted. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I missed you too, Bianca.”

* * *

_I've gotta have you, gotta have you_

_I've gotta have you_

 

 


End file.
